


Letters Yet Unwritten

by Occasus



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Together, M/M, Mentions of Death and Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27765757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Occasus/pseuds/Occasus
Summary: Levi slammed the door to Erwin’s office so hard the hinges rattled in their fastenings.“I don’t want to be a letter.” He blurted.“Levi?” Erwin’s thick brows drew together. “What do you—”Levi’s feet carried him across the floor of their own accord. “I don’t want to be a dusty letter rotting in the bottom drawer. When it’s over—when I—I want toknow.I want it to have meant something.”
Relationships: Levi/Erwin Smith
Comments: 9
Kudos: 317





	Letters Yet Unwritten

Levi doesn’t sleep well. Never has. Growing up in the underground saw to that, a childhood filled with danger, deceit, and desperation. It made him a light sleeper at best, hypervigilant. What sleep he did get was often plagued by nightmares—blood and snapping teeth, the screams and cries of the dying—his comrades, his friends. Faces of the fallen burned permanently into his mind. 

Sunlight on his face wakes Levi now, having slept through the night into the brightness of day. His lids flutter against the harshness of the morning sun, the world soft and fuzzy around the edges from sleep. It takes him a moment to register the solid weight flung across his chest, the warmth of another at his side. 

_Erwin._

Levi’s eyes open wide. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his body forces him to inhale sharply, dragging air into his starving lungs. 

His memory fires images from the previous night across his mind, rapid and disorienting.

Erwin looking up from his desk when Levi entered his office, looking up from the stacks upon stacks of condolence letters to dead soldiers' families. Lives snuffed out, reduced to apologies in parchment and ink. The unchecked grief in eyes bluer than the sky Levi had only recently come to know.

It could have easily been one of their names. 

Who would Levi’s letter have gone to, once it was signed by Erwin Smith’s hand? Or would the good Commander have kept it for himself, being Levi’s closest thing to family? 

It didn’t matter. Levi had spent too long wanting, too many sleepless nights wondering _what if, what if, what if._ Too many times he had caught those blue eyes on him, only for them to dart away when noticed. 

There was still time. They were still alive. How many more expeditions would come and go before that was no longer true? Before one of them didn’t return. If they were letters yet to be written, temporary in the flow of time, the impartial bloodlust of war, Levi couldn’t— _wouldn’t_ —live with the regret of never knowing. 

Levi slammed the door to Erwin’s office so hard the hinges rattled in their fastenings. 

“I don’t want to be a letter.” He blurted. 

“Levi?” Erwin’s thick brows drew together. “What do you—”

Levi’s feet carried him across the floor of their own accord. “I don’t want to be a dusty letter rotting in the bottom drawer. When it’s over—when I—I want to _know._ I want it to have meant something.” 

He couldn’t remember how he came to stand between Erwin’s knees, or how Erwin’s big, warm hands ended up on his waist. But he was grabbing Erwin by the front of the shirt, dragging him closer and whispering, “Tell me _no.”_

Then Erwin was on his feet, and his mouth crashed into Levi’s all tongue and teeth and desperation. 

Somehow they made it to Erwin’s bedroom without alerting the entire compound. Somehow Levi’s clothes ended up on the floor next to Erwin’s, and his hands were in Erwin’s hair, fine and fair as corn silk, and Erwin’s tongue was in his mouth, his thick fingers digging bruises into Levi’s skin. 

All the longing, the wondering, the stolen glances culminated in the moment Erwin laid Levi out on his bed, drinking in the sight of him bared for hungry blue eyes. Softly, as if he were afraid of speaking the words aloud, as if the admission was a thing he had kept hidden even from himself, Erwin said: “I knew you would be beautiful.” 

Levi saw them tangled together, heard the sound of his own voice saying _yes,_ breaking. He recalled the taste of Erwin’s breath, the smell of his skin like sandalwood and ink, the rasp of golden hair beneath Levi’s hands as he explored all the places he had only ever _dreamt_ of touching. Then Erwin was curled over him, _inside_ of him, and it was overwhelming, the weight of him pressing down, the heat of his body so close, the push and drag of his cock, until Levi knew nothing but Erwin, and his own frantic heartbeat hammering in his ribcage, vital and alive and _wanting._

Erwin tore down all Levi’s reservations in a single whisper of his name. With the way he held him after, like he might flee, like he might _break._ As if he wasn't the strongest soldier in wings. 

Lying in Erwin’s bed now feels surreal. Levi stares at the ceiling, a wild sort of giddiness tightening his chest. Next to him, Erwin sleeps, his breath slow and even. 

Levi turns his head on the pillow to look at him. It’s not the first time he’s watched Erwin sleep, but it’s the first time like _this._ Not the exhausted sleep that happens slumped at his desk, propped on his fist while hunched over unfinished work. Or the half-sleep of desperate times beyond the walls, the pair of them taking turns on who sleeps and who watches, knowing any second could be the bloody end. In this bed with his guard down, Erwin rests. His blond hair trails across the clean white pillowcase, lips parted and fair lashes curled above his regal cheekbones. There’s no wrinkle on his brow, no crease of concentration. Levi is used to seeing him severe and focused. Erwin’s loyalty to the cause, his obligation, his _guilt,_ left little room for relaxation. 

He looks younger now. Softer. 

Sun rays falling across Erwin’s skin highlight all the warm little freckles peppered over his bare shoulders, pinks the shell of his ear. Levi has never appreciated him so close for so long before. So openly and intimately. He maps Erwin’s features with his eyes, cataloguing all the lines and curves into his memory. The charming bump on his noble nose, the bow of his mouth, the strong slope of his neck, the arc of his collarbone. 

Erwin’s hand lies upturned by his face, and Levi’s gaze catches on the faded pink line running the breadth of his palm. A mark left by Levi’s own blade. The beginning of it all. 

He reaches out, lightly traces the scar with his fingertip. If not for Erwin, Levi would have never seen the world beyond the walls. He would have never seen the sky, never known the feeling of the sun on his face, a summer breeze in his hair. Would have never known what it was like to have someone care for him. 

Erwin stirs, sighing through his nose, his fingers twitching. The lumpy military-issue mattress creaks beneath them, and Levi pulls his hand back, but it’s too late. Erwin’s eyes open a fraction, lazy blue peering from under his lashes. 

Levi stares back, unsure of what to say. He dreads this soft, quiet moment in Erwin’s bed coming to an end. Not ready to return to reality. 

Erwin’s handsome face breaks into a sleepy, lopsided smile. He chuckles in his throat, the sound husky and warm, and Levi feels the vibration of it through his own chest where they are pressed together. 

The arm around Levi’s waist tightens, drawing him ever closer, and the hand with the scarred palm moves to brush his dark hair back from his face. 

“Good morning, Levi.” Erwin nuzzles into his neck, the rasp of his stubbled cheek making Levi shiver. 

“Morning,” Levi mumbles, looking away from Erwin and toward the window. The sky is endless blue overhead, the brightness of the sun indicating the time. It’s not morning at all, it’s likely past noon. 

He opens his mouth to chide Erwin for sleeping so late, for lazing when there’s work to be done, but stops himself—it’s the first time he can remember since joining the Survey Corps that he slept throughout the night. The first night without nightmares, without tossing and turning fitfully, without waking up cold and drenched in sweat. 

He allows Erwin to cuddle him closer, and decides that perhaps indulging in one lazy morning—or afternoon—won’t hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> A little oneshot b/c I was missing this pairing. Thank you, Willie, for the idea. <3
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please let me know if you like this one!
> 
> Come find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/occasusH) if you'd like to hear me yell about writing, Eruri, and other things.


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